


Oh My God, Do That Again

by Arrestzelle



Series: Rammstein Requests [8]
Category: Rammstein
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Drabble Collection, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Pre-Rammstein Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:15:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22476247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arrestzelle/pseuds/Arrestzelle
Summary: Till is rudely woken by Paul, who decided it was worth traveling by train and breaking into his house, unsolicited, just to get some dick (specificallyhisdick). Paul can be such a demanding little brat.
Relationships: Paul Landers/Till Lindemann
Series: Rammstein Requests [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1523702
Comments: 16
Kudos: 60





	Oh My God, Do That Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [paulhlanders](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paulhlanders/gifts).



> This is a drabble request for paulhlanders on Tumblr!! Hope you like it. It was fun to write. 
> 
> This is [Feeling B](https://66.media.tumblr.com/5ede617dc2b629834103cc77edd43c77/6314f75de53dd7fd-c8/s540x810/5efb7303a61c395f584171efac098b48673432c3.png)/[First Arsch](https://66.media.tumblr.com/5aa7dca56a84ca63d13bfa617c618730/6314f75de53dd7fd-06/s1280x1920/98cee3e94c6cbdc2e269947ee5e181748c9cfcf8.jpg) era. (even if that pic of Till is from like '93 but STILL he looked about the same)

“Wakey, wakey, Till!”

Paul’s higher voice pierces the tranquility of Till’s bedroom. [A voice](https://babypaulchen.tumblr.com/post/176550360351/feuerraeder-gesundheits-tee-all-of-their) that somehow sounds as if he was ran over by his puberty yesterday, despite that development passing over a decade ago. Till grunts in displeasure when a disruptive body lands on the foot of the bed with a leap, nearly sending him to the moon. But considering Till is easily twice Paul’s weight, he does no such thing. Instead, he hits his head against the wall which frames the bed and grumpily, sleepily snarls.

“What the fuck—why the fuck—” Till begins, which has Paul laughing aloud. Till sluggishly rises onto an elbow, and swivels his torso around on a pivot to see Paul kneeling over his muscular legs, a smug smile on his youthful face. His blonde hair is pulled back into his signature low ponytail. He’s wearing that ambiguously green shirt with the typical paired black vest, and [those sweatpants](https://66.media.tumblr.com/0990eca0e17c8d724b029cb69119341c/6314f75de53dd7fd-51/s540x810/d60a321bf23975bea9d947125a13c9b36707cdbb.png) that add more shape to his skinny little legs. Paul. Of course it’s Paul. Who else would break into his house at this hour to pester him? God, how did he even get there?

Till mumbles, more grunt than German, “What do you want, brat? If you couldn’t tell, I was sleeping.”

“You were,” Paul agrees, crossing his lean arms with a cocked brow, “But now you’re awake, and you’re paying attention to me, which was my objective. Why else do you think I would go out of my way to ambush you at this time of night, this far out of Berlin?”

Till groans and splats back down into the pillows. He burrows his head under them. Paul’s hands suddenly find Till’s ass; he begins groping at him and playing around with his muscular asscheeks like they were Play-Doh and Paul was a five year old who was just salivating to stuff it in his mouth. Till coughs out a wheezing laugh. Till kicks at him by lifting his foot up and knocking it against his bicep, until Paul relents. He instead runs his hands up over Till’s broad sides, slinking up under his oversized black sweater that always looked charming on his big torso.

“Mmm, your skin is so warm,” Paul murmurs, voice deepening with a tone Till recognizes. Till says nothing, utterly still. Paul’s hands are exploratory. He drags up his shirt—Till lifts his chest enough for him to push it up. Paul’s cheek finds his broad back. His slim hands stroke down Till’s sides to settle at his hips while he moves to lay on top of him, nuzzling his face into his shoulder blades. Paul lifts his head just enough to kiss across his hot skin.

“Can you fuck me?” Paul asks quietly. Till’s belly goes _zing_ at that. Blood immediately bursts south. His traitorous dick always became irresistibly stiff at even the slightest implication that it might get to be inside of someone soon. Till grunts a little. Paul nips at the muscle of his back and says with a smirk in his voice, “I need some verbal consent to take it further, Till. Don’t make me read your mind.”

“I can fuck you,” Till murmurs, sliding his head out from under the pillows to look back at him with cool, hooded eyes, his chestnut brown hair a wild mess against his forehead, “The question is whether I will.”

Paul smiles at him in that enigmatic way of his, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He slides higher up over Till’s bigger body and angles his head to kiss him. Till immediately moves to accommodate it. Paul gets up momentarily, if only to let Till flop onto his back, and then crawls over him, all smugly and happily as he often acts when he gets what he wants. Till roams his big, calloused hands up over Paul’s back, fingers catching on the fabric of his vest.

Their mouths crush together, lips hungrily overlapping. With the way Paul is laying haphazardly over him, their legs slotted together with Till’s groin against his thigh, he’s certain he can feel his rock hard erection. The sound of their heated kissing fills Till’s bedroom, joined soon by Paul’s tiny grunts and breathless gasping. Till begins sliding his hands past the waistband of Paul’s sweatpants and briefs to firmly squeeze his cute backside in his broad hands. Paul breaks the kiss, panting, and earns a lidded gaze from Till. Paul is looking down at him with an open, reddened mouth, cheeks flushed. His blonde ponytail (obviously unwashed and poorly brushed) is dangling down towards him.

“Let’s undress,” Paul insists, already beginning to pull up Till’s sweater again. Till moves to sit up, and the other man follows. Soon enough, Till’s shirt is ripped off of him, followed by his pants that he hadn’t bothered to strip off before collapsing into bed. Till lets Paul draw off his boxers, his heavy cock springing up from its confinement. Paul grins and runs his slim hands across his muscular thighs, stroking across dark hair and warm skin. Till, meanwhile, gets Paul’s vest undone button by button—he would just rip it off of him, but this is his favorite vest, and he knows Paul would give him an earful. Paul stops admiring his body if only to let him slip it off his arms, and then Till huffs in annoyance as he begins his work on his secondary shirt. Paul laughs, and straightens his back, opting to merely sit and watch with a smirk.

“Go, go, go, you got this, Till,” he whispers encouragingly, teasingly, while Till growls, struggling with one button. Paul giggles, and refuses to offer help. Till barely avoids ripping the shirt to pieces by the time he gets it open. When he does, Paul mockingly cheers, until Till violently drags it off his arms and flings it onto the floor huffily. Paul giggles when he’s shoved back into the covers, and then Till hooks his fingers around both his sweatpants and briefs to yank them down and off his skinny legs, his sizeable cock springing up to slap against his belly. Paul laughs sharply.

“Isn’t there more suspense in admiring the wrapping before ripping it open?” Paul teases, while Till tosses his final articles of clothing away. Till grunts in reply. He pushes Paul’s legs apart by the knees, and then slots himself between them. Paul hums a low moan in his throat, eyes hooded and cute lips in a pleased smile. Till moves to lay on top of him, his arms braced on either side of the younger man. Their chests and bellies are now flush together, sharing warmth. Paul purrs, wrapping his arms around Till’s wide back, hands mapping across hot skin. The naked, full-body hug is nice. Paul nuzzles into his neck with a sly grin, letting his legs splay open to make room for the bigger man.

Blunt fingers find Paul’s messy ponytail, and begin threading through the long locks. Paul giggles lowly and continues gently roaming his touch along his broad back, enjoying the feeling of his skin.

“Let me suck your dick,” he whispers, before pecking Till on the cheek. Till’s erection is nestled comfortably against Paul’s, and it makes him much more aware of it. Till grunts a quiet affirmation. He gets up, Paul follows. Till ends up kneeling, back slouched, legs spread apart, with Paul moving onto his side. Paul strokes his hands across those flexing thighs as he leans in, ducking to take the thick head of his cock into his mouth. Till’s large hand runs along the curved slope of Paul’s spine while Paul begins bobbing his head, sucking tightly which only fills the room with vulgar sounds of his effort. He takes him in deeper and deeper until Till is groaning quietly under his breath, his other hand raising to grip the back of Paul’s neck. Eyes hooded and downcast, Till enjoys the sight of Paul’s flexing back as he moves his head, his bleached ponytail nestled between his naked shoulder blades.

The foreplay isn’t necessary considering they’re both plenty aroused, but the preparation is. They switch through various positions during the dedicated effort of stretching Paul: Paul kneeling over Till’s face while Till sucks his dick, fingers moving inside of him; Paul on his back, laying as comfortably as a contented cat with a pleased smile; Paul on his knees taking powerful thrusts of his fingers while Till kisses patterns over his back. Considering their vastly differing sizes, and Till’s huge cock, time has to be spent on working him open. Not that it isn’t fun in itself; Paul is giggling half the time, cracking jokes and saying this and that to get Till to grin in that adorable, shark-like way of his which exposes teeth and prominent dimples. They kiss so much, their lips become much too sore to lengthen it. Paul is moaning wantonly, gasping in pleasure, sprawled out on his back and barely able to talk after nearly an hour of this—a good indication he’s ready. And based on the fact Till has four fingers in his ass, it’ll do.

Now, he has Paul squirming and drunkenly demanding for him to fuck him. Till is so horny, leaking all over the damn place, but his patience and self-control always outweighed his need to fuck. Paul’s well-being came first, always.

Till leans in, takes a great, big bite out of Paul’s quivering thigh, earning a jerk of his leg and a gasp. Till bites and kisses along his thighs, sucking harshly to the point that it has Paul grabbing his hair and whimpering that it hurts. Till knows he likes being marked, and chooses to ignore the empty complaint. He already anticipates their shower together afterwards, and the way Paul will stroke at them with a grin and starry eyes. They’re already beginning to purple once he pulls back to admire.

“Get on your belly,” Till murmurs, roaming his broad hands over those perfect, freckled thighs. Paul is shuddering, his gray eyes hooded and hazy, trained on him. He nods. Till gets off of him; Paul immediately turns over, careful to avoid kicking Till, and then gets settled on his front. Till nudges his legs apart. His pink, slick hole is exposed to him, his reddened cock and shaven balls pinned against the bed between his bruising thighs. So delicious. Till reaches out to lightly run his fingers down between his ass cheeks, ghosting across his well-fingered hole, and then over his balls and aching cock. Paul moans. Till grabs the lube and reapplies a thicker coating to Paul’s asshole, and uses the remainder to stroke over his own painful erection. Even that has him biting back a grunt.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” Paul is gasping into the sheets, clutching at the pillow with both fists. Till flattens a slick hand against the small of his back, pinning him down as he gets on top of him, his legs slotting against Paul’s. Paul is panting harshly, waiting with anticipation. Till grips his thick cock, sweeps the pink, dripping head down between his ass cheeks, leaving a streak of pre-cum across pale skin. Paul is moaning softly already. Till circles the head against his sensitive, over-worked hole. Paul jolts, gasping. Till sweeps it up and down against his entrance and taint, teasing him. Paul growls. He kicks his legs, almost as if throwing a fit. Till chuckles, deeply.

When he angles his cock and raises his hips just enough, Till slides into him. Paul moans so hoarsely, it’s as if he knew no other form of bliss but this. Till groans himself, guttural and unfiltered. He pushes in deeply, all the way, and then withdraws slowly. He repeats a back and forth rolling of his hips, testing the waters. Paul is already trying to raise up onto his knees to fuck himself back on it, but Till keeps him pinned to the bed despite his squirming. When it’s apparent they did quite well in preparing him, Till begins to fuck him, one hand planted against the small of Paul’s back, the other propped against the bed for stability.

He drives his hips into him, the sweaty smack of their skin creating a cacophony of noise only amplified by Paul’s gasping and moaning, Till’s breathless grunting. Till accidentally slips out when he withdraws his hips too far back. Paul holds his breath, waiting. Till lifts his hips, letting his cock slide back up between his asscheeks. When the head catches on the rim of Paul’s well-fucked hole, he shoves back inside of him, hands-free, his heavy balls smacking against him rather lewdly. Paul gasps a raw sound of pleasure, hoarse and agonized.

“Oh my God, do that again,” he breathlessly pleads, his hand dragging down the rumpled covers to grab onto Till’s wrist, “That was so hot.”

Huffing himself, breathless, Till obliges. He lets his erection slip out of him, and then adjusts the angle of his hips. He rubs his slick cock up and down between his asscheeks, earning the cutest little whimpers from Paul, and then once the head catches, he slams back into him with a hard snap of his hips, jostling the bed and shoving Paul’s smaller body into the mattress. Paul cries out, head raising from the pillows. Till pulls out again with a wet pop. Chest heaving, sweat decorating his scarred skin, Till watches himself sweep his cock up over Paul’s taint again with a practiced roll of his hips. Once angled correctly, Till drives his cock back into his body with a firm thrust of his hips. Paul moans loudly, nails digging into Till’s wrist. His shoulder blades shift under freckled skin when he rolls his back. His long, bleached ponytail is plastered to his skin with sweat.

Invigorated, Till begins pumping his hips against him, grunting and growling under his breath. His insides are a roaring flame. Due to the prolonged foreplay, he knew he’d be unable to last long. Paul, in the midst of being fucked, angles his hips and shoves a hand underneath to begin touching himself. He’s hiding his face in the pillows as if to muffle his own moaning. Till loses all sense of coherency. His low sounds of pleasure become deeper, more animalistic—he’s huffing, snorting, grunting in his throat. He can no longer see or hear Paul as he pounds into him, snarling and moaning as he loses himself to the euphoria of his orgasm.

He snaps his hips against him a few more times, thrusting into him with finality as he fills him with his cum. Paul’s moans have become deeper, longer, and Till realizes he’s hitting the apex as well when his body squeezes like a fucking vice around his cock. Till groans, eyes fluttering shut. He drives into him roughly twice more, milking the pleasure as much as he is able. Paul is moaning deliriously, his thighs trembling uncontrollably, his hand clawing at the bed. He’s gasping now, the tension in his body alleviating until he’s limp against the mattress, panting. Till collapses forward onto his elbow, his hairy chest meeting Paul’s sweat-slick back. He unintentionally pins him under his weight, but he feels physically unable to get off. Paul softly moans. Till dazedly feels a gentle hand slide over his sweaty, flexing thigh.

Till’s softened cock pops out of him when he shifts a little. Paul groans. Till tiredly kisses over Paul’s freckled shoulder, his full lips pressing repeatedly over his wet skin. Paul doesn’t move, but his hand remains laying on Till’s thigh. Till gets up off of him with an exhausted grunt. He kneels behind him, sweeping his sweat-dampened bangs back over his head with a deep exhale. Paul doesn’t close his legs. Till reaches out to squeeze his cute ass in his hands, and pulls him open.

Till stares. His asshole is gaping—flushed, and very pinkened from the overstimulation it received. Till’s thick load is just beginning to seep out. Paul is still panting into the sheets. He isn’t saying anything, as if any clear thought was wiped clean. Till removes his hands once satisfied with the eye candy, deciding to leave him as he is.

“I’m going to grab us some water,” Till says lowly, voice and mouth very dry from his exertion. Paul grumbles a weak noise of agreement. Till strokes a calloused hand up along the curve of Paul’s freckled back as he gets up and departs.

When he returns, Till wields a large glass of water, and a wet hand towel. Paul is motionless, seemingly still brewing in the aftermath of exhaustion and simmering, overworked nerves. He’s now clutching a pillow to his face, burying into it. Till takes a seat beside him, places the glass on the side table, and then begins cleaning him up. He wipes up the streaks of cum that previously escaped during his absence. Paul jolts a little when Till runs it between his asscheeks. He then tosses the soiled rag into the garbage, uncaring that it’s a waste of a hand towel. It was pretty fucked up already.

“Drink,” Till gruffly orders, grabbing the glass of water again, while wrapping his other hand around Paul’s lean bicep to urge him into a seated position. Paul is silent as he tiredly rises. He sits back on his calves, back hunched, eyes gradually becoming lucid as they study Till’s face. Till passes the cup over. Paul’s face weakens with appreciation when he begins drinking, as if he were dying of thirst. Till watches his throat work as he drinks.

“That ended too quickly,” is the first thing Paul says upon lowering the cup, to pass it to the older man. Till silently takes it, brow furrowing. Paul continues, saying, “Maybe I should be the one to fuck you next time. Make it last longer than five minutes.”

Till watches him with calm, unreadable eyes as he takes a drink of the cool water. The relief in his mouth and parched throat momentarily overwhelms his self-consciousness. Paul scrapes out his hair tie and begins retying his hair back, skinny arms raised. Maybe he doesn’t anticipate a verbal response from the quiet, reserved man who rarely defends himself, but it comes regardless.

“You complain when I take too long to come,” Till murmurs lowly, leaning over to set the glass down again, “And you complain when I spend too quickly. What will it be, Paul? How can I make you happy, considering your happiness is what truly matters here?”

Typically, Till just shuts his mouth and says nothing, but he’s somewhat annoyed that Paul broke into his house, rudely woke him up to jump his bones, and then complained like a thief who didn’t enjoy a stolen sandwich.

“That is impossible to attain,” Paul casually states with a dismissive gesture of his hand, rolling his eyes before settling them on Till with a thin smile on his lips. “I’ll let you know when the perfect fuck happens.”

“I’m sure you will.”

Paul huffs a dry laugh. He props his hands back against the bed, unfolding his legs to stretch them out with a grunt, pointing his feet and then curling his toes. Till reaches out to stroke a broad hand up along his shin, feeling the passing touch of his leg hair. Paul smiles at him slyly, eyes hooded.

“Join me for a shower, then we can try again after.”

Till internalizes his exasperation.

“No. I’m going to sleep after the shower. But you’re welcome to stay the night.”

Paul huffs dramatically, the oversized child. Long ago, he donned a façade which portrays him as perpetually bouncy and happy, to fit the style of a carefree punk rocker. But Till and a select few know he’s a demanding little shit that is seldom satisfied. Always seeking more, never content. Paul speaks in a petulant mumble, his brow set low.

“…Fine. Only if I get to sleep with you. I’m not sleeping on that stupid couch again.”

Till smiles faintly. He’s well-aware of how much Paul enjoys it when he holds him before they were to sleep. Paul always, without fail, curls up against his big, warm chest as if he never felt quite as safe anywhere else. Based on the slightly bashful expression that flickers across Paul’s face, Till can tell that he knows he knows.

**Author's Note:**

> babypaulchen.tumblr.com


End file.
